


Morning Bells Are Ringing

by notsomagicath



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simonverse | Creekwood Series - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 14:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsomagicath/pseuds/notsomagicath
Summary: Bram loves it when Simon sings their daughter to sleep, but the irony of his husband singing Frère Jacques is not lost on him.





	Morning Bells Are Ringing

Bram Greenfeld-Spier wakes up for the second time in the night, and he curses himself for being such a light sleeper. His husband, on the other hand, would probably be able to continue sleeping if a fire truck drove through their bedroom. 

Speaking of which. 

He reaches blindly towards the opposite side of the bed. 

“Si,” he mumbles, voice still heavy with sleep. 

His fingers only hit wrinkled sheets, still warm with Simon’s residual body heat. 

Rubbing his eyes with his left hand, Bram pushes himself to sit up straight, flicking the switch of the lamp on his bedside table. He squints for a moment until his eyes adjust to the light. Bram waits and counts down from five in preparation for the cries of a screaming baby, but the sound is faintly echoing down the hallway, signifying the tail-end of a tantrum instead of the beginning of another hour of scrambling for the bottle warmer or a spare diaper from under the changing table. 

“ _ Frère Jacques _

_ Frère Jacques _

_ Dormez-vous? _

_ Dormez-vous? _ ” 

Bram smiles at the sound of Simon’s voice. The song is so soft that he can barely hear it, and the notes are a little raspy from lack of sleep, but Bram closes his eyes and smiles at nothing for a moment, just enjoying the sound. 

Moment savored, it occurs to him that he should probably check on them. 

As he walks toward the nursery, the singing gets progressively louder, either because the distance is shorter, or because Simon is turning the rendition even more dramatic, French accent considerably thicker than a few moments ago, with every verse. 

He peeks into the doorway, and notices, much to his amusement, that Simon has incorporated elaborate dance moves to match the song, waltzing their daughter around the room, causing squeals from the six-month-old baby. 

“You know, Si, Hannah’s never going to fall asleep if you keep swinging her around like that,” Bram teases, leaning against the nursery’s door frame. 

Simon gasps dramatically and clutches Hannah closer, pressing their cheeks together, eliciting a somewhat muffled giggle from the little girl. 

“Shhhhh Hannah Banana, Papa’s just trying to ruin our fun. We’re having a lovely time without his uncalled for common sense. Isn’t that right? Isn’t dada always right?” 

He holds Hannah at arms length and nods fervently until the baby mimics the action, earning a triumphant shout from her dad, which prompts her to turn to Bram and nod solemnly in hopes of gaining the same reaction. In spite of the fact that it’s technically part of the argument against him, Bram grins at her and reaches over to take her into his arms, tickling her on the bottoms of her feet, making her shriek with joy and knead her hands on his face and chest. Bram sputters from her efforts and Simon is decidedly unhelpful, clutching his sides with laughter at the look on his husband’s face. 

“Oh noooooo,” Bram cries dramatically, carefully pretending to collapse to the ground with Hannah in his arms, “I’ve been defeated! By my own daughter! My own beautiful daughter betrayed meeeee.” 

“Yes!” Simon snatches Hannah up and laughs evilly, “At last, we’ve defeated him, and together we will rule the castle Greenfeld-Spier!” 

“This is what I get for marrying a theater kid,” moans Bram from where he’s still lying on the floor. 

“You love me,” Simon teases, leaning down, squealing baby and all, to peck his husband on the cheek. 

“I do,” Bram agrees, sitting up to give Simon a soft kiss on the lips. 

As if sensing that they were having a moment, Hannah screeches from where she’s situated in Simon’s arms. 

Bram winces slightly, but the grin doesn’t fall from his face. Instead, he reaches over to wrap both both of them in his arms and pepper Hannah’s face with kisses. 

“Get a room,” Simon jokes, passing Hannah to Bram to plug in her pale blue night light, which, in all likelihood, he had kicked out of the socket during the dance. 

“Shush.” 

Bram cradles Hannah in the crook of his arm, cooing at her as she squirms in the blanket he’s swaddling her with.

“I know you don’t want to you to bed, sweetheart, but dada and papa need to sleep otherwise dada can’t wake up in the morning, and we both know he’s no fun when he’s grumpy,” Bram smirks at his husband, who is mock-glaring at him from across the room, “Hannah Banana, as much as we love spending time with you, I think you should get a little sleep. Or,” he tilts his head slightly and grins when she mimics the action, “maybe it’s more like your dad and I need to get some sleep… Si?”

“Hmmmm?” Simon replies from where he’s piling Hannah’s stuffed animals into a pyramid.

“Won’t you sing us to sleep?” 

“Of course.” 

Bram settles into the armchair on the other side of the room and makes sure Hannah is comfortable before nodding at Simon to begin. 

“ _ Frère Jacques _

_ Frère Jacques _

_ Dormez-vous? _

_ Dormez-vous? _ ”

Bram opens his mouth as if to say something, but Simon grins mischievously at him, placing a shushing finger over his lips as he continues to sing. 

This late at night (early in the morning?) Simon’s voice is raspy with sleep, not to mention decidedly off key, but still, his husband’s sleepy voice is one of Bram’s favorite sounds in the entire world. 

Bram doesn’t realize that he fell asleep until he feels the weight of his sleeping daughter being lifted from his arms. 

As his eyes flutter open, he’s greeted with the sight of Simon, blond hair askew, glasses tilted on his face, finishing the song softly in a private performance for their daughter. Bram holds perfectly still as Hannah is lowered into the crib, pretending to be asleep for just a moment longer.

“C’mon,” Simon coaxes, wrapping an arm around Bram’s shoulders to ease him onto his feet, “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.” 

Bram mumbles under his breath as they stumble down the hall to their bedroom, leaning a little too heavily on Simon.

They both fall crooked onto the mattress, with Simon’s head on Bram’s shoulder and one leg hanging off the bed. 

“ Fr ère Jacques, Si? Really?”

“Why, is it an issue?” Simon tilts his face up to Bram’s, “Feeling blue?” 

“That’s the worst joke I’ve ever heard.” 

“Your face is the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”

Bram glances down, unimpressed, at Simon who shrugs and smiles innocently up at him. 

“You heard my face?” 

“Shhhhhhhhhhh,” Simon places three fingers over Bram’s mouth and then places a kiss where his fingers used to be, “Let me live.” 

Bram doesn’t answer, and instead pulls Simon closer, intertwining their legs. 

“Let me sleeeep,” he murmurs into Simon’s hair, pushing it back for a moment to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Mhm,” Simon hums, ducking his head into the crook of Bram’s neck, “Love you.”

“Love you too.” 

For the next two hours, the Greenfeld-Spier household is silent as light slowly inches its way around furniture and contours of the family’s faces. 

Hannah Greenfeld-Spier opens her eyes for the first time that morning, and upon finding her dads out of her sight, she takes a breath to call them back. 

“Good morning, alright.” 

“Here, Si, I’ll get her.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this bundle of fluff! If you want to come chat or just say hi, my Tumblr is @youve-cath-to-be-kitten-me! (+Writing Blog! @notsomagicath)


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